


A Story About a Frisbee

by HugeAlienPie



Series: The Sitcom Verse [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, College, Didn't Know They Were Dating, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Meet the Family, Meet-Cute, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Pre-Relationship, Questioning, Sort Of, Trans Female Character, involuntary outing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 14:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17727227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HugeAlienPie/pseuds/HugeAlienPie
Summary: As first meetings went, Daisy hitting Robbie in the ass with a Frisbee wasn't the best. On the other hand, things could only go up from here.





	A Story About a Frisbee

**_September 2012_**

The problem with major life-changing events, Daisy decided, was that no one asked you when was a convenient time for them. They were pretty staunchly atheist in the Coulson-May household, but even if she believed in a higher power, she didn't think she would've been able to imagine that higher power pulling her aside and saying, "I've penciled you in for one of the most important events of your college career this Thursday. Is that all right?" Because if it had, Daisy would've said, "Ooh, actually, on Thursday I have two midterms, and America will be fighting with Student Records, and I'll be having some really annoying dysphoria around clothes. I won't be able to handle any adventures then. Can we do it Friday instead?"

If she'd known, she would've thrown the Frisbee differently. A different flick of her wrist. A different angle of her torso. Hell, if she'd known, she might've gone swimming instead.

*

Being hit in the ass with a Frisbee flying at top speeds _stung_. This was something Robbie felt he knew, or at least would have guessed, if he'd given any thought to it. But knowing different from _experiencing_. As the sharp sting of the hit faded into a bright burn, Robbie yelped, jumped almost a foot in the air, and landed _very_ poorly, ending up in an undignified heap face-first on the ground of the quad.

"Oh, shit, are you all right?"

Someone, presumably the Frisbee-thrower, thundered up to him, skidding to a stop near his waist. He rolled over gingerly, and, yup, that was gonna hurt like a son of a gun tomorrow. Possibly later today. He spent a second looking up at the bright blue of the sky with its little wispy clouds, red maple and yellow-leaved willow oaks peeking in at the edges of his vision. A perfect fall day for getting hit in the ass by a Frisbee.

Once he had his breath back, Robbie looked up into the eyes of his worried assailant. His first thought, and he wasn't even embarrassed by it, was _She's hot._ Legs for days, long, dark hair cascading around her shoulders, dark eyes trying to hide their amusement  despite the gravity of the situation.

His second thought was, _Aw, shit, I know her_. And if the reputation that preceded her around campus was even half accurate, Daisy Johnson was _trouble_.

Robbie sighed and held up his hand. "Help me up?"

"Oh, yeah, right, of course," she said. She grabbed Robbie's  hand and hauled him up easily, which, oh no. Women with muscles had been one of his biggest turn-ons since Marisol Carreras punched him in the stomach when they were twelve.

"Thanks," Robbie said, trying to sound like a functional human being, rather than someone who'd just been felled by a one-two punch of Frisbee and attraction.

"I really am _so sorry_ ," Daisy said. Her hands were in constant motion—pushing her hair out of her face, smoothing her leggings, fiddling with the star-shaped pendant on her necklace. It took a minute, but it occurred to him that maybe she was doing it so she wouldn't reach out and touch him to make sure he was all right. In the ass region. He appreciated her restraint. "I didn't think it was headed toward you," she continued, "but the wind changed at the last second, and Kate—"

Daisy turned toward where another dark-haired girl, presumably Kate, was watching the proceedings with one hand over her stomach and the other over her mouth, like she'd been laughing so hard she'd made herself sick. She and Daisy waved their hands at each other a bunch, ending with Daisy making a dismissive gesture and Kate giving a double thumbs-up and wandering off.

Daisy made a frustrated huff and turned back to Robbie. "Well. Kate was Kate."

Robbie nodded. "Katers gonna Kate," he said.

Daisy paused for a second, mouth slightly open like she'd been about to say something. Then she started laughing, great guffaws that left her breathless and beautiful. Robbie beamed. In high school, he'd overheard a girl call his sense of humor "unforgivable in four languages," and he still considered it one of the highest compliments he'd ever been paid. Daisy got her laughter under control and looked at him with sparkling eyes as she demanded, "Who _are_ you?"

He grinned and stuck out his hand. "Robbie Reyes."

Daisy shook. Her hand was soft and her grip was firm. "Daisy Johnson."

Robbie bit back his first response, which was, "I know." He wasn't sure she knew about her reputation, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be the one to tell her if she didn't.

Daisy was studying him, head cocked to one side, scrutinizing him like he was a puzzle piece she was sure she's seen the spot for. "Why do you look familiar?" she demanded.

Robbie's face flooded with heat at the memory of the one time he and Daisy had been in the same room before. "I." He cleared his throat. "I was at the first GSA meeting of the year. Uh, last month."

"Yes! I remember you. You were one of the punch-hoverers." When Robbie looked at her blankly, she rolled her hand and said. "People who hovered. By the punch." Robbie didn't remember the meeting having punch, but he _had_ been clinging to the corners, so he took Daisy's meaning. She shook her head sadly. "And you haven't been back since. I get it. Sometimes our fabulousness is too much to handle."

In the time-honored tradition of college students everywhere, they started walking as they talked. _Also_ in the time-honored tradition of college students everywhere, they weren't walking in the direction Robbie'd been headed when he got to the quad. But his errand hadn't been pressing, and he had nowhere to be until dinner, so he drifted along beside her, content for now to follow wherever she was headed.

Daisy kept looking over at him, clearly waiting for him to explain why he hadn't been back to the GSA since the first meeting. And it wasn't like he was embarrassed by where he chose to go instead. On the other hand, they'd known each other for less than five minutes, and at least one of those minutes had contained no deeper conversation than "Are you sure your ass is okay?" They didn't know each other. He didn't owe her this piece of himself. He didn't owe her anything.

Possibly realizing that this line of inquiry wouldn't get her anywhere, Daisy clapped her hands, and the mood changed instantly. "So! What brought you to our humble abode? Are you an awesome ally? A galloping gay? A querulous questioner?" As soon as the questions were out, she started shaking her head, holding her hands up in a "no harm" gesture. "Sorry! Sorry, no, don't answer that. Oh my god, what is _wrong_ with me?" She put her hand over her face and then peeked through her fingers at him. "Sorry. You don't owe me an answer. In fact, you  _shouldn't_ answer, because that was an asshole thing to ask. Sorry. I just. Sometimes, there are _cute boys_ , and I—see, I'm doing it right now, aren't I? My sister calls it the 'high-stress brain-mouth decoupling,' and all of my siblings do it. Basically, you should ignore everything that comes out of my mouth at all times."

Robbie grinned, thoroughly charmed. "I think you're doing great." Daisy blushed, and Robbie was slightly appalled to find _that_ charming, too. He licked his lips and thought for a second. For some reason, answering this question felt safer than answering the other one. "I'm... questioning, I guess. A lot of things." He shrugged. "Everything's weird."

Daisy laughed. "Robbie Reyes, that is literally my family motto."

Daisy stopped walking, and Robbie realized they were in front of Plattman Hall, the largest freshman dorm. "Uh... this is me," she said, and her voice held the first hint of uncertainty he'd heard from her since she'd picked him up and made sure her errant Frisbee hadn't permanently damaged his ass. "Do you, um... want to come up? I think my roommate has arnica gel. For your, uh... for the pain. And the bruising."

Every logical part of Robbie's brain was screaming, _Oh_ **_hell_** _no._ Daisy was a freshman who had somehow managed, in the mere six weeks since new student orientation started, to cement her reputation as one of the incoming class's biggest troublemakers. Robbie should walk away right the fuck now.

But... but she had this bright sparkle in her eyes. She talked so lovingly about her family. She held herself carefully, like the world was one giant booby-trap that she was constantly navigating. He didn't think her reputation was _wrong_. But even in a five-minute walk across campus, he'd started to get the impression that the story of Daisy Johnson had more chapters than were commonly told around dorm common rooms and campus PO boxes. And Robbie, damn his curious nature, wanted to know them.

"Just for a couple minutes," he said, and quietly said goodbye to anything he'd wanted to get done before dinner.

Daisy lived on Plattman 4. They turned right off the elevator, and after that, Robbie was pretty much lost. Plattman, Robbie had always been convinced, shared an architect with the house in _House of Leaves_. Possibly with the same minotaur in the basement. Finally, after what felt like a longer walk than they'd had from the quad, Daisy stopped in front of a door that said _419_. The name sheets on the door said "Daisy" and "America," and other than a dry-erase board bearing an aggressively bedazzled marker and a barely legible note from someone named Teddy, the door was empty.

Daisy patted the wood self-consciously. "America requested no decorations on the door. Something about giving away too much of ourselves to the random public." She shrugged. "America takes privacy very seriously. When they feel like it."

Daisy unlocked the door and shoved it open. Robbie crowded in behind her, which was when he realized she'd stopped moving—which was when he realized she'd stopped moving because there was a dude in one of the beds.

Robbie was working hard to get his temper under control, and other than that he liked to consider himself a level-headed guy. He liked facts and reason. And the fact was that if he hadn't already been going through a bisexuality crisis, he'd be having one right now, and this guy would be the reason.

He was white and kinda old—40, maybe? But he had muscles for days, and this sort of "bad boy casual" aesthetic that Robbie definitely saw the appeal of. His feet, still in heavy boots, were kicked up on the bed frame, crossed at the ankles. The afternoon sunlight through the narrow windows glittered off the multiple silver rings on his fingers where they lay interlaced on his chest. The battered leather jacket draped over the desk chair probably belonged to him. Who was this guy, that he could sleep in  one of the uncomfortable single beds while both Daisy and her roommate were gone? Did Daisy have a way older boyfriend that the college rumor mill had managed to miss somehow?

And why couldn't Robbie decide if he wanted to _be_ this guy or _do_ him?

"Oh, _fuck_ this day," Daisy muttered. She flicked her Frisbee at the guy and, with no breeze to knock it off-course, it flew true and landed smack in the middle of his chest.

The guy flailed awake and caught the Frisbee, briefly, before it slid off him and onto the floor. "Daisy, what the hell?" the guy demanded.

" _Clint,_ what the hell?" Daisy shot back. She'd moved to the other side of the room and was rifling through a large Rubbermaid bin. "The fuck are you doing in my room?"

"I can't come to visit?"

"How did you get in?" She tossed Robbie a tube; he caught it out of sheer, startled reflex. It said "arnica gel," which Robbie appreciated, but was he supposed to strip down and apply it right here? In front of a cute girl and her possibly-boyfriend?

Clint grinned and swung his feet down from the footboard, sitting up in one smooth, ab-rippling movement that Robbie couldn't look away from. "Aww, it's so good to see you, too, Daisy-face!"

"No, but seriously, how did you get into my very locked dorm room when my roommate isn't here?"

"I got here as America was leaving the building. They let me in. I'm their favorite."

Daisy scoffed and kicked her shoes onto a pile of them next to the door. " _Mack_ is their favorite; don't even try that shit on me." She sighed and dropped onto the bed next to Clint, leaning against him. His arm went around her shoulders instantly. "But you _are_ Kate's favorite, and that gets you a lot of points. Jerk." She poked him in the ribs, and he squirmed away. "You could've texted."

"And spoil the surprise?" He batted his eyelashes at her, and, seriously, who needed eyelashes that long? What purpose could they possibly be serving?

"You are the worst surprise _ever_ ," Daisy announced. She gestured idly between them. "Clint, this is my new friend Robbie. Don't be weird at him. Robbie, this is my stepfather-to-be, Clint. He's... going to be weird at you. I'm sorry. I can't do anything about him."

Robbie laughed uncertainly.

"A new _friend_ , eh?" Clint asked, leering unsubtly.

Daisy kicked him in the shin. "What did I literally just say?"

"What?" Clint asked, spreading his hands. "I wasn't being weird. Was that weird?"

Robbie shrugged. "It was a little weird."

Clint scowled at him. "I don't like him. He has to go."

" _Oh_ no." Daisy grabbed Robbie's wrist and hauled him over so he was standing in front of her desk chair, and then she shoved at him until he sat in it. "He's on my side. He stays." She fixed a hard stare on Clint. "You still haven't told me why you're here. In my room. At 4:30 on a Thursday afternoon."

Clint sighed and slumped against the wall. "Your father and I are having a difference of opinions on the guest list."

" _Wedding shit_!?" Daisy shrieked—actually, legitimately _shrieked_ —and threw her hands in the air. Robbie revised his assumptions about what was implied by "stepfather-to-be." "No. You promised you wouldn't come to me with wedding shit. That's what Fitz is for."

"Fitz is dead to me," Clint said, and even having known him for less than two minutes, Robbie could hear the sulk in it.

"Oh my god, you enormous _baby! Fine_. Tell me about the guest list. But you owe me."

"Uh... should I... go?" Robbie asked, gesturing toward the door.

" _Yes_ ," Clint said.

" _No_ ," Daisy said, glaring Clint down. The she sighed and turned to Robbie. "I mean... it's about to get really boring for you. Because apparently we have to talk about the _guest list_. But..." She bit her lip and glanced at him from under her lashes. "I'd love it if you stayed."

Like Robbie was going to say no to those eyelashes. "Sure. I can stay a while."

Clint gave Robbie a longer, more assessing look that made him extremely uncomfortable. Then he looked at Daisy, snorted a laugh, and launched into what Robbie clearly identified as groomzilla mode.

And the thing was... it _was_ boring. Robbie had no idea who any of the people were that Daisy and Clint were talking about, or what was wrong with the guest list (although he managed to piece together that Daisy's dad was named Phil and that Fitz-who-is-dead-to-me was Daisy's brother). Daisy smiled at Robbie once in a while, but neither she nor Clint made any effort to include him in the conversation. And yet, at the same time, being here, letting their voices wash over him, no one expecting anything of him other than his presence, was oddly soothing.

Robbie pulled out his phone, scrolled through some feeds, beat a tough level on Two Dots (and then felt weirdly disappointed that he couldn't share that small victory with anyone in the room), replied to an email from Gabe, zoned out a little.

It was, he realized with a start, a lot like how things had been with his girlfriend his first year, the kind of familiar comfort that meant you were content just being in a room with them, even if you didn't exchange more than a handful of words. Later, when he was back at his own place, he would examine what it meant that he felt that with someone he'd just met, but that was for later. For now, he was just going to enjoy it.

Things got _very_ interesting at one point, when Robbie noticed a sudden tension in the air between Clint and Daisy. "All I'm saying," Clint said, spreading his hands, "is that Phil is tying himself in knots over this, and I don't see any downside to the invitation 'getting lost in the mail.'"

"Clint, _no_." Daisy leaned into Clint's space, voice earnest, hand on his knee. "You are looking at a genuine Sleeping Beauty situation here. If you invite him, odds are _really good_ he won't come. He may even send you a passive-aggressive wedding present."

"How do you send a passive-aggressive wedding present?" Clint asked, which was exactly what Robbie'd been wondering.

"A picture of the six of us in happier times, in a frame that says 'family' around the edges. It's what he sent Mom when things got serious enough with Uncle Nick for her to tell us about it."

"Ouch," Clint said, wincing.

"But if you _don't_ invite him," Daisy continued, "then when he finds out—and he _always_ finds out, somehow—he will find a way to make Dad miserable about it for _years_ to come. Shit, you should see the emails he sends Fitz, and _no one_ was at that wedding."

"You were," Clint grumbled.

 _Daisy's brother Fitz: married. Possibly eloped_ , Robbie added to the mental file he was appalled to realize he'd started keeping on Daisy's family. Was this unknown "he," the one she seemed to be casting as the Black Fairy in this fairytale analogy, another brother? (And was "Uncle Nick" an honorary title, or was Daisy's mom actually dating one of her uncles, because _yikes_.)

Robbie drifted again, and ten minutes later, Clint stood up, patted Daisy's head, and said, "Thanks for the save, Daisy-face."

"That's _it_?" Daisy demanded, popping up off the bed and planting herself in Clint's path to the door. "You show up unannounced, monopolize my time, bore the crap out of Robbie, and now you're going to waltz out of here with a 'thank you'? You're not even going to buy me dinner?"

Clint's cheeks turned red, and he shuffled his feet. "Oh, uh, well, actually, Phil and I—"

" _Eww_ , no, I don't want to hear about what you and my dad do! All right, fine, _go_." Daisy moved out of Clint's way and shooed him toward the door. "But you're taking me out next week. No excuses!"

He nodded. "Sure, okay, will do." He swooped in and hugged her fast, barely a split-second before she started spluttering and shoved him off, laughing. " _Eeew_!" she yelled. "Dad-cooties!"

He grinned and sauntered out the door. "See ya 'round, Daisy-face!" He opened the door and walked out of the room. He caught the door seconds before it closed, stuck his head back into the room, and said, "Nice to meet you, Robbie-face." Then he disappeared, neatly avoiding the pillow Daisy lobbed with horrifying accuracy toward him.

As soon as the door fell shut, Daisy flopped back on her bed with a put-upon huff. "So," she said to her ceiling, "that was Clint. Sorry he's… like that."

"He seemed nice," Robbie ventured. Now that he was more tuned-in, he let his eyes roam the corkboard above Daisy's desk. The cork was practically invisible behind the dozens of photos she'd tacked up. Robbie wondered how many of the people in them were people she and Clint had been talking about.

Daisy snorted. "Sure. He fools people like that." But Robbie saw the sparkle in her eyes, and he thought about the way she and Clint had interacted. She might be as embarrassed with him as most teenagers were by their parental figures, but she obviously loved him, too.

Robbie looked at the clock. It was quarter to six. "So, uh, I don't know what time you usually go to dinner—"

"Dinner! Shit!" Daisy scrambled around on the bed until she could pull her phone from the (very tight) pocket of her (very short) shorts. She woke up the phone, and Robbie winced in sympathy as the lock screen flooded with text notifications. "Yes, yes," she muttered, swiping into the text window, "hold your bras on." She tapped out a quick reply and then lowered the phone to her lap. She bit her lip and looked at Robbie. "So, uh, thank you. Really. I know this isn't the afternoon you were planning on—" Which was true, but it didn't matter. Robbie was a little ahead in his schoolwork; he didn't have car club today, and he'd been on his way back from work when he encountered Daisy and her course-altering Frisbee; and his call to Gabe wasn't until tomorrow night. Daisy hadn't kept him from doing anything he couldn't do tomorrow. "—but I think it's been pretty great. And, uh, I'm sure you want to get back to your friends, but... you'd be welcome to sit with me and my friends. If you want."

Robbie was getting the sinking feeling that there was very little he wouldn't do if Daisy suggested it. Maybe it was because she was so _new_ to him. He wanted to know more about her exuberant sprawl of family and wild friends. He wanted to know what she was studying and what she did in her spare time. He wanted to know her favorite food and her least favorite movie and her plans for the future. In short, he was screwed. "Sounds fun."

Robbie had never been interested in the social capital of gossip, but he was aware of its value. In their college's tightly-packed and dirt-hungry atmosphere, he could go far on information about the quartet of first-years known collectively as "the Holy Hells." He just wasn't sure if the information was worth whatever he was about to endure.

Robbie knew that Daisy ran with a small, tight circle, but he'd thought there were more of them than the three people waiting impatiently when Robbie and Daisy found whatever looked closest to edible in the dining hall and squeezed their way through the crowd to a table by the window. It had six chairs, and the three empty ones looked slightly askew, like they'd been used and then pushed back in unevenly.

"Hey, hi!" Daisy said brightly as she shoved her way into one of the empty chairs, motioning for Robbie to sit next to her.

"Fucking finally," one of the others groused. "You missed the dudes."

"The _dudes_ ate and ran like the hyenas they are," another—possibly Kate from before; it was hard to tell at this new distance—said with a hint of haughty disdain. "You didn't miss much."

"Sorry, sorry," Daisy said. "Clint crashed my life, because apparently until he forgives Fitz for eloping, _I_ get the wedding questions, like he doesn't have, you know, _an actual professional artist_ for a best friend who could help him with this.”

"Five bucks says Natasha's threatened him with significant bodily harm if he asks her one more wedding question," the first one said as they (according to the pin on their faded Americana denim jacket) shoved half a dinner roll into their mouth.

The last one high-fived them and then stared at Robbie with an attention that immediately had him itching. " _No,_ " she said.

Daisy paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, a slightly amused smile curling her lips. "No?"

The woman put down her glass. "I acknowledge that this institution of so-called higher learning may actually be making us _dumber_ , but I recognize your family. _That_ —" Punctuated by a sharp finger-jab in Robbie's direction. "—is not Clint."

And, oh, great. Now they were _all_ looking at him.

"Daisy," maybe-Kate said slowly, "who's your friend?"

Daisy sighed. "Be nice to him, okay? He's already dealt with Clint and—" She pinched her lips together abruptly, but it was too late.

Maybe-Kate was all but bouncing in her chair now, which cemented her in Robbie's mind as definitely-Kate. "Daisy oh my _god_. Is this him? Is this Frisbee-ass guy?"

'College makes us dumber' girl made a noise of equal excitement, but the fourth one stared at Daisy, wide-eyed. "The fuck, Johnson? You been holding this guy hostage all afternoon?"

"No! I—" Daisy huffed and shot Robbie an apologetic look. "Okay. Robbie, these are, for my sins, my best friends." She pointed at them around the table. "Darcy Lewis, America Chavez, Kate Bishop. Guys, this is Robbie Reyes. Yes, I hit him in the ass with a Frisbee, haha Daisy's a klutz, moving on. But he stuck around while Clint went all groomzilla on me, so please be nice."

The other three looked at each other. "Nice," Kate said slowly, like it was a word in a language she'd never encountered before.

Darcy nodded and gave Daisy and Robbie a thumbs up. "We can do nice."

Daisy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, you can't, but I appreciate your enthusiasm."

Robbie stifled his laugh in his mashed potatoes.

Robbie quickly realized that when Daisy said they couldn't do nice, she meant that they didn't know how to hold a conversation not steeped in seven layers of inside jokes and personal jargon. He smiled politely at some statement of Kate's that had Darcy and Daisy holding their sides laughing, and America smiling like Kate was literally the greatest thing since agriculture. Then he waved his fork between them. "So, this is nice. Being at college with people you've known forever."

There was a pause, and four sets of eyes blinked at him in unison. Creepy. America recovered first. "Common misconception," they said. "Daisy and Kate knew each other from their fancy-pants Chinese immersion high school. Darcy and I have known each other since the infamous day the ceiling of our shitty public junior high collapsed."

"I've seen your junior high," Kate said, a bit prissily. "It's not that shitty."

"The _ceiling collapsed_ ," Darcy said, enunciating carefully.

" _Then_ ," America continued as if they hadn't been interrupted, "I got assigned as Daisy's roommate, and Darcy got assigned as Kate's. Daisy and Darcy arranged a get-together for the four of us over the summer, and the rest, as they say, is dyke erotica."

"Hey!" Daisy yelped, throwing a (hopefully closed) salt packet at America's head with that unerring arm of hers.

"Maybe for _you_ ," Darcy said.

"I'm straight," Daisy said.

"I'm _pansexual_ , thank you," Kate said, but she was grinning, and she swooped in to give America a fast kiss.

"Still a dyke," America said when they separated.

Robbie watched the exchange with wide eyes, amazed that a group of people could click together so quickly. He'd been going to the car club for over a year, and a couple of the guys _still_ called him "Ronnie."

"By the way," Kate said, looking between Robbie and America with a stern glare, "that's a warning to you two. If you try to use Spanish as a way to keep us from knowing what you're talking about, Daisy and I will switch to Mandarin."

"And I'll sit here feeling lost until someone switches to French," Darcy added blithely.

Taking Kate's statement for the dare he recognized it to be, he looked at America and signed, "You know ASL?"

America's lips curved into a wicked smile, but it was Daisy who excitedly bobbed her fist in an exuberant "Yes!"

Robbie blinked and signed back, "LSM, too."

Daisy frowned. "I don't what that stands for."

Kate whistled sharply, drawing the attention of several tables around them. "A little louder for those of us out here."

Robbie shrugged and picked up his fork. "I was just saying that I know ASL and LSM. Mexican Sign Language."

"Aw, man, this is so cool," Daisy gushed. "I wish I'd known. Clint's deaf. He wears hearing aids, mostly because of his business, but he signs, too. Maybe _you_ could've discussed wedding plans with him."

Darcy snorted.

"Wait," Robbie said. He pointed between Daisy and America. "You said you were randomly assigned as roommates."

"Yeah?"

"Huh." He speared his least-suspect looking carrot. "I didn't know they did that." When everyone looked at him blankly, he considered the giant, blinking, red warning sign in front of him and then chose to ignore it. "I didn't know trans students got random roommate assignment." Actually, come to think of it, didn't most of the trans students who lived on-campus have singles?

A heavy silence thunked over the table. Robbie swallowed thickly. "Shit. I'm sorry, Daisy. Was I not supposed to—do they not—"

"Of course we know," Darcy said sharply, eyes flashing. "We're her best friends. The question, Robbie Reyes, is how _you_ know."

"She—I—" He turned imploringly toward Daisy. "You _said_. At the GSA meeting. You talked about being trans and out."

"I did." Daisy nodded slowly. "It's still a dick move to talk about it _around other people_ without confirming with me if they know. I'm out to most people, but definitely not _all_. If these three hadn't known, you would've just outed me. Which, obviously, I would like to avoid."

"Yeah." Robbie nodded. "Of course. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. Moving on."

"So the Frisbee wasn't the first encounter?" Kate asked. "You came to a GSA meeting?"

"Yeah." Robbie rubbed the back of his neck. "I, um..."

"Robbie has a crush on Clint," Daisy announced, which Robbie supposed was fair.

"Ooh, man, wait 'til you meet Mack," America said.

"Or Lance," Darcy added.

" _No_ ," Daisy said sharply. "Darcy, no one shares your weird and frankly disgusting fascination with Lance."

"Sam and Steve," Kate said, and the others "hmmm"ed in agreement.

"What I'm saying, Robbie," America said, "is that even as someone solely attracted to folks on the femme end of the spectrum, I can confirm that Daisy's extended family contains a hell of a lot of unfairly hot dudes. And don't get me started on the women, or you'll have to carry me out of here." She eyed him speculatively. "If you're into women."

Robbie swore he couldn't help the way his gaze flicked to Daisy. "Yeah," he said, "I'm into women." America laughed. Daisy, thank God, had been distracted by a sudden ruckus on the other side of the room and missed it all.

*

Robbie walked with Daisy back to Plattman. Darcy, Kate, and America, despite the fact that they all lived in Plattman, suddenly remembered something they had to do in the opposite direction, leaving Robbie and Daisy alone. Daisy'd watched them go with a bemused squint, and then she'd shrugged and smiled up at Robbie, gesturing him on. He wasn't sure why he'd gone; Plattman wasn't exactly out of his way, but it wasn't exactly on it, either.

They lingered in front of the main door, a bit uncertain. "Did you want to come back up?" Daisy asked. Robbie smiled. "Thanks for the offer, but I need to get back."

"Sure." She nodded. "Where are you?"

He pointed up the way. "Tesla Goat."

She grinned at the common nickname for the junior/senior dorm. "Well, this has been super fun. We should do it again sometime."

"Maybe without the ass-Frisbee next time," Robbie said, and danced away when she tried to swat his arm.

" _Maybe_ ," she said with a glare that felt mostly for show.

They grinned at each other. Robbie wasn't sure if Daisy was expecting a kiss, but he didn't kiss on first dates. It wasn't a moral stance but a self-protective one: he tended to fall hard and fast, when he gave himself half a chance, so he kept a tight rein on his heart when he could. It helped that Daisy didn't seem to expect anything from him; she genuinely seemed to mean that she had a good time and would be interested in hanging out again. He liked this. A low-pressure new friendship with no expectations to it.

Robbie smiled, told Daisy goodnight, and walked back to Telson Gaus Hall with a spring in his step. Then he _stopped_ putting a spring in his step. Because his ass was still sore.

* * *

**_Late October 2012_**

Daisy shoved Robbie's coffee cup at him and stuffed her now-free hand into her hoodie pocket. "I don't want to hear any griping about the weather or the time," she warned him.

He nodded. "Okay, but I'm going to do it anyway."

"Noted."

"Because it's cold."

"Robbie—"

"And way too early."

"I get it. It's not ideal. But it's the last regatta of the season, and Jemma _really_ wants all of us there."

"I'm just not sure how 'all of us' includes _me_. And not, say, the Hells."

"I asked them, and they were in unanimous agreement that I should take the new guy." She gestured at him with her coffee. "You should feel honored, by the way. They are never in unanimous agreement about anything."

Robbie groaned and slugged his coffee. "I hate being the new guy."

Daisy laughed brightly. "Cheer up, Reyes. There's coffee."

If there was any upside to this regatta, which was otherwise a dark, chilly _mess_ , it was that you could spot your people pretty easily, because there was hardly anyone there. Not that it was that difficult the other times, since Mack was usually the tallest person in the crowd. It was just nice not to have to wake up enough to think about it much.

"Hey! There's our people," she said, leading Robbie over.

"What, next to that mountain?" he asked.

"No, that's our mountain." When Robbie made a face, she laughed. "I've told you about Mack. He's a teddy bear. You'll love him."

"I have doubts."

"Noted and overruled."

Daisy had no shame, and she wasn't ashamed to admit it. As soon as she was close enough, she threw herself at Mack, remorselessly leeching his body heat. He gave a rumbling laugh that shook her to her toes and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She gave a happy sigh and burrowed into the warmth.

"Oi!" a predictably pissed-off voice shouted at her. "What is this?"

"Survival instinct, dude."

" _Really_?" Fitz asked skeptically. "Because it looks like you have designs on my husband."

"Oh, I _do_ ," Daisy agreed, nodding. "Warm, toasty designs." Somewhere above her head, Mack laughed again. "Look, bro, you married a guy with the physique of Adonis and the body heat of Hephæstus. You're damn skippy I'm gonna bogart that."

Fitz opened his mouth. Then he closed it and wheeled on Robbie. "I don't know you," he said, "but you're with my sister and therefore suspect."

"Frick," Daisy muttered. She'd forgotten introductions. Again. "Okay, Robbie, the cranky Feegle trying to make you combust with the power of his mind is my brother Fitz. This glorious human keeping me alive is Fitz's husband Mack. The woman smirking behind a tree _like she thinks I won't see her_ is Jemma's girlfriend Bobbi." Bobbi smirked harder at that, but at least she was standing _next to_ the tree now, instead of behind it.

"Nice to meet you all," Robbie said, though he looked like he wasn't sure it was. He looked hesitantly at Mack. "I, uh, think I know your brother."

Mack's eyebrow went up. Hell, _Daisy_ 's eyebrow went up. This was news to her. Could she not meet _one_ person in the greater DC metro who didn't end up somehow connected to someone else in her sprawl of family and friends?

"You one of the guys from the Monday garage?" Mack asked.

"Yeah."

"Good." Mack nodded once, something like a proclamation about it. _I, Alphonso Mackenzie, do hereby declare it good that Roberto Reyes knows my brother from the garage_. "Nice group of people. It's helped Ruben a lot."

Robbie nodded. "Yeah. Me, too."

Daisy slugged Robbie's arm. " _That's_ where you go on Mondays? Why you can't come to meetings? You're fixing cars at Riverside?" She slugged him again. She shouldn't be doing that so much, but whenever she was around Robbie she felt this weird need to be in constant physical contact with him, and in this fucked up culture, friendly violence was considered more acceptable than rubbing yourself against someone like a cat. "God, I thought you were an international spy or something."

The corner of Robbie's mouth twitched. "I am," he said dryly, "but not on Mondays."

Fitz cackled, Mack grinned, and Bobbi stepped further away from the tree. _Not damned bad, Reyes,_ Daisy thought.

It was a normal morning at the river. Bobbi was being cagey, which meant either that she was about to leave on a long trip with Stark or that Lance was back in the picture and she was trying to figure out how to tell them. Fitz was alternately a giant troll to Daisy and a sickening flirt to Mack. Daisy was perfectly happy trying to rile everyone up in equal measure.

The best part was how easily Robbie fit in. He'd seemed unsure at first (as anyone would, when faced with this family), but he'd relaxed as soon as he'd realized that no one was going to demand to know what he was doing here or give him the third degree. As far as Clan Coulson-May was concerned, if you were willing to haul your shivering ass to the banks of the Potomac at six in the morning to cheer for Jemma, you were more than welcome, no justification required. Robbie wasn't saying much, but Daisy watched the way his eyes tracked everything around them—Fitz and Mack flirt-fighting, Bobbi giving Mack guff and pretending he and Fitz didn't charm the shit out of her—and the way he seemed to have accepted that, despite their reputation, they were a pretty normal family.

If you didn't count Fitz's underground porn collection, or Jemma's prophylactics and menstrual supplies emergency kit, or Daisy's banned book library, or Mom's death-defying gonzo nonprofit, or Lance's general shadiness, or Uncle Nick's… _everything_.

And, okay, Robbie didn't know about any of that yet, and Daisy was in no hurry to tell him (except for how she worried that one of the other Hells would blurt something someday). But she had faith that he would take it well. He seemed to roll with a lot of things.

Daisy wasn't ready to call him one of her _best_ friends, because it would be hard for any friendship to break into the same tier as what the Hells had. But she thought he might get there.

Daisy leaned against Robbie's side, and he made a startled noise before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and resting his head against hers. Daisy smiled and settled in to watch the race. Yeah. He would get there.

*

**_Early November 2012_ **

Robbie paused with his hand raised. He heard voices inside, which was hardly new. Daisy and America's dorm room was a Grand Central Station of students and family members. Usually no one cared if one more person joined the party—"the more, the merrier" seemed to be Daisy's life creed—but this voice was new, and the conversation sounded more intense than Robbie thought would be wise to intrude on.

"All I am saying, Daisy," the new voice said, "is that..." And then it trailed off into something quieter, almost hissed, that Robbie couldn't make out.

"Do you think I don't know that, Mom?" Daisy demanded.

Robbie took an automatic step backward. Of all the relatives of Daisy's that he'd met, he'd so far managed to miss her actual parents and her mom's-boyfriend-slash-dad's-best-friend, the infamous Uncle Nick. But he'd heard stories. _So many_ stories. And he'd googled Melinda May’s nonprofit after Daisy got to talking about it one night over dinner. Those search results had given Robbie what he considered a healthy level of respect and terror for the woman who’d reared Daisy. He was _not_ ready to spend time with Melinda May with only Daisy as buffer.

As carefully and quietly as he could, Robbie unvelcroed the marker from the top of Daisy and America's dry-erase board, scribbled a quick message, returned the marker, and walked away.

*

Daisy and America froze, squirrel-in-headlights-like, when they realized that the soft footsteps they'd been hearing across the library carpet were coming toward their clandestine meeting space, which was apparently not as clandestine as they'd thought. Then the footsteps rounded the corner into their secluded alcove, and Daisy breathed a sigh of... almost-relief. Robbie wasn't cause for alarm, but being around him wasn't exactly relaxing.

"There you are!" he said, quiet but happy, as he perched on the corner of the table they were sitting at.

America raised their eyebrows slowly but meaningfully. _Get him out of here_ , those eyebrows said.

Daisy cleared her throat and tried to find an expression between friendly and firm. She wasn't mad at Robbie, and she didn't want to run him off forever. She just wanted him to leave for now. "Hey, Robbie. How's it going?"

"Oh, great. _Great_ ," he said chipperly. Far too chipperly, given how laid-back he usually was.

Daisy narrowed her eyes, not ready to push just yet. "Hey, it's great to see you, but America and I are in the middle of—"

"Super top-secret project, yeah, I know." Robbie nodded affably, swinging his leg back and forth above the carpet in the most blatantly _un_ -Robbielike behavior she'd ever seen. He spread his hands. "I'm not here to eavesdrop, I swear." One of his hands plunged into his backpack and emerged with a familiar bag.

"You brought us fried chicken from Astro?" Daisy asked, her suspicions spiking all the way up.

"See, here's the thing," Robbie said as he put a napkin on the table and set the bag on top of it. "Fitz told Mack that he's worried about you. Says you're not eating or sleeping enough. Then Mack told Ruben, and then Ruben told _me_. So _I_ , as the only one of those people who sees you every day, took it upon myself to make sure you get at least one hot meal and a couple hours' sleep today."

Daisy scowled and crossed her arms. "I don't need a minder."

Robbie did a "maybe/maybe not" head-bob that made Daisy want to punch him a little. "I mean. Eat the chicken, don't eat the chicken. But if you don't, I'll have to tell Ruben next time I see him. He'll tell Mack; Mack'll tell Fitz; and then…"

Daisy slumped and opened the bag. "Wet willies."

Robbie nodded and pointed a drumstick at her. She hadn't even seen his hand move. "Wet willies, indeed."

America scoffed like they’d never heard anything more ridiculous. But they took a wing, all the same.

Robbie hopped off the desk. He took a disgustingly large bite out of his super-extra-forbidden-in-the-library fried chicken (ugh. _boys_ ) and waved the drumstick at them like the absolute dork he was. "All right. My work here is done—for now. But I'll be back in two hours to make sure you actually leave this building and get some sleep."

America snorted. "You might as well stay," they said. "It's not like Daisy won't tell you everything anyway."

"I won't!" Daisy protested. Damn. That hurt.

"She really won't," Robbie said gently.

America sighed and rubbed their eyes. "Yeah, sorry, no. I know you won't. I just—" They turned a high-octane glare on Robbie. "Look, we've been at this for hours. At this point we're going around in circles. Maybe we need some fresh eyes on it. Might as well be yours."

Daisy thought Robbie smiled faintly, but he just nodded and returned to his perch on the table. "What seems to be the problem?"

America tossed their stripped chicken wing on the table and collapsed back against their chair. Feet sprawled out, arms crossed in casual defiance, they were currently the picture of "no fucks given." But Daisy knew it was just that—a picture.

"When I first got interested this oh so charming institution of higher learning," they began, "the recruiter _assured_ me, with a level of excitement that probably should've sent me running, that my pronouns and gender identity  would absolutely be honored on my records and by faculty and administration. Turns out she was writing checks the school won't cash. All my records say 'female.' My pronouns aren't listed anywhere, even though I know there's a note space in the class rosters. So far it's about 50/50 which professors acknowledge my pronouns." They shrugged. Daisy knew how much it bothered them. She also knew how hard they were going to pretend it didn’t.

Robbie frowned. Daisy would give him this: he seemed genuinely upset on America’s behalf. “So, what, the database isn’t set up for more gender options than M or F?”

“No, it’s not,” America said grumpily.

“It _could_ be,” Daisy added. “You’d just need to—oh. Hey, America? How would you feel about circumventing the registration system?”

A sharp grin spread across America’s face. “Oh, sign me the fuck up.”

Robbie covered his face. " _Daisy_ ," he groaned.

Daisy poked the side of his leg. “It was your idea, buddy.”

“No way. You are _not_ pinning this on me! Are you seriously considering hacking the main student record database?”

Daisy gestured at America. “With full consent of the student involved!”

“But without the school’s consent!”

“Listen, bub, this is a moral issue,” America said, leaning menacingly into Robbie’s space. “If the school won’t record and report nonbinary students’ genders properly, we have to do it for ourselves.”

Daisy stared hard at Robbie. “Are you going to report us?” This was a dealbreaker. She liked him  a lot, but if he intended to turn them in, well, that wasn’t something most friendships survived.

Robbie didn’t hesitate. He dropped his hands onto the table  and pushed himself upright. “Report what?” he asked once he was standing. He put one hand over one ear and the other hand over one eye. Daisy laughed, and America snorted in grudging amusement. “I don’t know what you’re doing here. Top-secret project, right?” He squeezed Daisy’s shoulder and pointed at the bag of fried chicken. “Just keep eating, all right? And get some sleep tonight.”

America grumbled a surly, “Okay, _Dad_.”

But Daisy thought it was sweet, Robbie looking out for them. “We will,” she promised. “Thanks.”

Robbie left with a little wave. When Daisy turned back to America, a new plan already more than half-formed, America was looking at her with an unreadable expression.

“What?” Daisy demanded.

America studied her face for a second and then shook their head. “Nothing.”

Any other time, Daisy would’ve pressed. But tonight she had bigger things to deal with.

*

 **Union Jemma** : Sib Din. One week from Thursday, 8:00 sharp.  
**Union Jemma:** At Bub and Pop's, because Leopold is a heathen.

 **Haggisbreath** : their sandwiches are works of art. UR the heathen.

 **Union Jemma:** Daisy, please check your schedules. We've been giving Robbie a pass because it's new, but we would love to have him with us as soon as you both feel ready.

 **Me** : um  
**Me** : wut

 **Haggisbreath** : u kno. Robbie  
**Haggisbreath** : tall, hot, dry sense of humor he's afraid 2 use around us, frisbee-ass  
**Haggisbreath** : yr bf

Daisy stared at her phone. What? Just... **_WHAT_**?!?

 **Me:** Robbie's not my boyfriend

 **Union Jemma** : Yes, all right. You youngsters and your disdain for labels. The person you're dating.

Daisy made a sound in the back of her throat, a cross between a growl of warning and a scream of frustration.

 **Me** : we're. not. dating

There was a pause. A long pause. The dots bubbled up to indicate that Jemma was typing. Then they disappeared. The dots bubbled up to indicate that _Fitz_ was typing. Then they went away, too. Daisy made the sound again.

Daisy swiped back to her chat list. Her finger hovered over Robbie's name for a second before choosing her group chat with the Hells.

 **Me:** wtf guys  
**Me:** sibs think R & I r dating :o

That same long pause, even though it was six o'clock on a Thursday night, and Daisy knew that the others were all currently doing something that allowed them quick access to their phones. Daisy started to make the noise again and then stopped. It probably wasn't good for her vocal cords.

 **Darcy Dearest:** ur... not?

 **Me** : NO!!!!!!!!!

 **Mx. America** : they totes r, Darcy-cakes. D-Dog's messing w u.

 **Me:** IM N O T !!!!!!!!!

 **Darcy Dearest** : haha very funny

 **Princess Pointysticks** : no, wait, guys  
**Princess Pointysticks** : i think she's serious  
**Princess Pointysticks** : i think she thinks they're not dating

 **ME:** BECAUSE WE'RE NOT!!!

In her entire life, Daisy didn't think she'd ever used this many exclamation marks or this much caps lock.

 **Mx. America** : DAISY CORPSEFLOWER JOHNSON

 **Me** : I will kill u where u sleep

 **Mx. America** : did u or did u not take this boy 2 Snow Globe, the top-secret hipster froyo place u claim is the best in va & wouldn't even take me 2  
**Mx. America** : ME. YOUR ROOMMATE

 **Me** : not the same. robbie already knew about snow globe

 **Princess Pointysticks** : have you, or have you not, taken him MORE THAN ONCE to the river to watch dr. arms and her soft domme ponytail perform feats of derring-do to make any dyke's heart race?

 **Me** : eww that is MY SISTER

 **Mx. America** : has he not met BOTH of ur local sibs AND their SOs?

 **Darcy Dearest** : and clint

 **Princess Pointysticks** : ooh. no, sorry daisy, you're right

 **Mx. America** : what

 **Darcy Dearest** : what?

 **Me:** what??

 **Princess Pointysticks** : you're not dating robbie  
**Princess Pointysticks** : you're married to him

Daisy threw her phone onto her bed in disgust. What was _wrong_ with her friends?

Daisy could admit that, when she met Robbie—in a tangled, adrenaline-spiked frenzy of flying Frisbee and sheer panic—she'd felt a flutter of attraction toward him. He was an attractive  guy; it was almost impossible not to notice that. For a hot minute, as they walked from the quad to Plattman, Daisy had thought there might be something romantic there, and she would've been fine with that (insofar as any trans person could be okay with starting a new romance, knowing The Talk loomed in front of them).

But they'd come into her room to find Clint being all... Clintish, asleep on her bed. And Robbie had _stayed_. Planted himself in Daisy's desk chair and stuck around, scrolling through his phone and only looking up when Daisy and Clint's conversation got heated, never indicating that he was bored or wanted her to wrap things up so she could pay more attention to him.

And that... that wasn't what Daisy expected from someone who wanted to date her. It was what she expected from someone who wanted to be her friend—hell, it was what she expected from someone who already _was_ her friend. She and the Hells were constantly sitting through conversations with each other's  parents, siblings, and weird uncles. It was something you did for someone you accepted unconditionally—not someone whose pants you wanted to get into.

So Daisy had shifted her expectations around Robbie. And it was good. Friends were good. God, _of course_ friends were good. She didn't have many. Sure, she was popular around campus, a popularity that was only growing as her reputation for... fixing problematic school records also grew. But real, genuine friends? When she'd met Robbie, she'd had her dork-ass siblings and the Hells. Now she had her dork-ass siblings, the Hells, and Robbie.

So, no. Daisy and Robbie were _not_ dating. Everyone was ridiculous.

Daisy drummed her fingers against her phone case.

They were, weren't they? Ridiculous?

 _Aaaargh!_ She'd been having a _great_ day. She'd fixed records discrepancies for two students and was wearing a really cute skirt. And now here she was, having this irrational but unshakable feeling that she was somehow... _failing_ at being a girl. She _hated_ feeling like that.

She didn't know if Robbie was interested in her like that, but she hadn't had a boyfriend since fall semester of last year, and he'd turned out to be an asshole. She'd since learned that a guy in her stats class—a much better guy than the one she'd dated—had been interested in her, and she'd never realized it. She had zero sense of when a guy was into her unless he said something, and the whole experience with Jason had put her off dating for a while. But maybe this time she could be brave about romance  and it wouldn't end terribly.

She picked up her phone and opened her text thread with Robbie before she lost her nerve.

 **Me** : u free?

 **Frisbee-Ass:** gimme 20?

 **Me** : sure  
**Me** : we need to talk

Daisy groaned and dropped her phone. She flopped onto her back on the bed and groaned again. She was _so bad_ at boys. Which was ironic, given how much of her life had been spent with people thinking she was one.

After a glare at her phone, which cruelly refused to alert her to a message from Robbie, Daisy pulled her laptop onto the bed and queued up that damned ocean life documentary series Mom had gotten her hooked on. If she was going to suffer terrible anguishes over some guy, she might as well have pretty fish to look at while she did it.

*

In a garage on the far side of campus, Robbie felt the color drain from his face as he stared at his phone.

"You okay, man?" Joey asked. "You don't look so hot."

" _Aaaaagh_ ," Robbie said, throwing his phone onto the table he was sitting at. He looked around. Great. Everyone was watching him. He sighed. "Daisy says we need to talk."

Around the room, five identical winces and three sharp whistles came back at him. "Oh, _damn_ ," Lucy said. "That is _never_ good."

"Trouble in paradise," Ruben sing-songed.

Robbie snorted. "Man, that is _your_ family. What about it is ever paradise?"

Ruben laughed. "Fair." He wiped off his hands and crossed the room. He dragged a chair over and dropped onto it backwards. "Look," he said, "I may be telling tales out of school here, but Mack and Fitz talk about Daisy sometimes."

Robbie held his breath and felt absurdly grateful.

"From what I can tell, Daisy's only had one boyfriend before you. And he turned out to be way less okay with her being trans than he'd let on."

" _Fucker_ ," Robbie growled.

"Fucker, indeed." Ruben leaned closer, fixing Robbie with a sharp stare. "You hear what I'm saying, though, right?"

Robbie rubbed his face. "Well, what I'm _hearing_ is that Daisy may be even more awkward at relationships than the average college freshman.”

Ruben smiled half sympathetically, half mischievously, and slapped Robbie's leg. "My man, that is _exactly_ what I'm saying." He tapped Robbie's knee and then pulled his hand away. "Just… remember that when you talk, okay?"

"Yeah." Robbie sighed. "Okay."

As Ruben stood and moved away from Robbie, everyone else in the shop rushed back to their work, making a laughably pathetic attempt to act like they hadn't been hanging on every word of the conversation. This was the nosiest crew he'd ever worked with. And since they were about eighty percent LGBTQ, they were very invested in Robbie's relationship with Daisy. Or rather, they were very invested in making sure he didn't make a pig's ear out of his relationship with Daisy, because they wanted her to be happy—even if that wasn't with him. But they liked him, too, so they kind of hoped it _was_ with him.

Which felt nice, if cloying. He'd never had that before. He and Gabe had basically been each other's worlds for years, but Gabe was adamant that he just didn't want to know certain things about his brother. Uncle Eli—well, the less Robbie thought about him, the better. Mostly, he was glad Uncle Eli wasn't around to find out that Robbie was dating a trans woman, because he would have been _awful_ about it.

Robbie tried not to worry too much as he gathered his stuff and left the garage with shouted goodbyes and half-meant promises to tell everyone all about it later. He tried not to overthink things as he slowly crossed campus (the long way) toward Plattman. He would know soon enough what Daisy wanted to talk about; there was no point in assuming the worst.

He was kind of assuming the worst, though.

When Daisy answered her dorm-room door, she looked more anxious than he'd ever seen her. She was wringing her hands, her eyes were wide and panicked, and her hair was a tangled mess around her head, like she'd been running her hands through it repeatedly. _Now_ Robbie felt justified in panicking.

"Daisy." Robbie reached for her hands, but she jerked them out of his reach, and he stuck his own in his pockets to show that he wasn't going to try again. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

Daisy bit her lip. Then she grabbed the hem of Robbie's t-shirt and pulled him inside the room.

She settled them on the bed, Robbie with his back against the footboard, she in the middle with her legs folded under her. She looked miserable, and Robbie had the fleeting, gut-wrenching thought, _So, this is what Daisy Johnson looks like when she’s about to deliver bad news._

They sat in silence for a very long moment. Robbie wanted to be patient, but if an axe was going to fall, he wanted it to _happen already._ “Daisy,” he said, as gently as he could. He slid his hands across Daisy’s afghan, hand-crocheted by the late, notorious Grandma Coulson, and wrapped his hands around hers. She stared at their joined hands like she’d never seen anything like it before. Robbie swallowed. This seemed like… a bad sign. “Daisy,” he said again, weakly, “if you’re breaking up with me, please just do it. I promise not to be an asshole.” He paused, swallowed. “I promise to try not to be an asshole.”

Daisy stared at him for a long, heartstopping beat. Robbie held his breath.

Daisy started laughing. It wasn't one of the laughs he'd heard from her before, and he'd sort of made a hobby of cataloging them. He'd sort of made a hobby of cataloging everything about her. He wanted to say so many things to her, to ask her what was wrong, but she was clearly having some kind of moment, and he didn't want to interrupt.

Finally, she slowed down enough that she seemed able to talk again. She wiped her eyes with her fingers and looked somewhere near his shoulder as she asked, "Would you be surprised to learn that I hadn't realized we were dating until just now?"

The words that jumped to Robbie's lips were _fuck yeah I'm surprised_. Then he stopped. Ruben's voice floated (very annoyingly) in his ear, reminding him that Daisy hadn't dated much before now. A dozen incidents popped into Robbie's mind, times when he'd tried to subtly indicate that he would be very open to a kiss if Daisy wanted it and she'd looked at him like she had no idea what he was angling for. Times he'd invited her to more notoriously "coupley" events around campus and she'd done that adorable nose-wrinkle (god, he was at the point where he thought her _nose wrinkling_ was adorable, and she hadn't even thought they were dating!) like she couldn't imagine them doing that together. Times when the Hells had made half teasing/half serious comments about Daisy and Robbie's upcoming anniversaries and she'd laughed and rolled her eyes like everything was a joke.

Robbie had thought they were giving each other time. He'd thought that Daisy thought he needed time to adjust to the idea that he was dating a trans girl. _He_ thought she needed time to adjust to the idea that he really was fine with it. But if Daisy hadn't even thought they were dating, then… well, then what? He smiled weakly. "Actually, the more I think about it, the less surprised I am."

Daisy rolled her eyes and shoved his arm lightly. "Thanks." She bit her lip. "So… obviously _you_ think we're dating. If you think I might be breaking up with you."

" _Are_ you breaking up with me?" Which, the instant it left his mouth, Robbie realized was absurd. But the heart got hung up where it got hung up, he guessed.

Sure enough, Daisy rolled her eyes again, harder. "I can't break up with you if we're not dating."

Figuring there was no reason not to be bold if this was all about to fall apart, Robbie reached over and took Daisy's hand. "Not officially, I guess.. But... I've met your friends and most of your family. You've met Gabe. You know where I go on Monday nights, and I've been to the secret hangouts you won't show anyone else. We cuddle during movies and text each other all day. I'm not sure what dating looks like to you, but to me, it looks like what we're doing."

"We haven't even _kissed_!" Daisy said, way too loudly. She slapped her hand over her mouth, but to Robbie's ears it sounded like that last word was bouncing all around the walls.

Robbie shrugged. "Not everyone does."

Daisy crossed her arms and gave him a look that he couldn't read as anything but a challenge. " _I_ do!"

Goosebumps prickled along Robbie's arms, and he slid his hand across the bedspread, grateful when Daisy immediately reached out and linked their fingers. "Would you... kiss me?"

Daisy's gaze flickered to Robbie's lips and back to his eyes, and Robbie's breath caught. "Yeah," she said, voice gone a little rough. "I would."

Robbie leaned forward as though her words had pulled him. Her lips were soft, and her hand was so warm when it squeezed his. He felt keyed-up, alert, his whole body waking up like it'd been sleeping for years.

When Daisy pulled back, she looked blissed out for half a blink before her eyes widened in what looked to Robbie like a lot of panic. "Oh. Uh."

Robbie squeezed her hand once to reassure her and then let go. "So. What about dating? Do you want to do that?"

"Do _you_ want to?" she shot back.

Robbie pinched the bridge of his nose. _Freshmen._ "Well, Daisy," he said slowly, "considering that I thought we already were, I'd say yes."

Daisy squeezed her eyes shut tight; Robbie wasn't surprised to see tears slip out a few seconds later. " _Why_?"

Robbie swallowed his sigh. Why the hell was this world so _hard_ on teenage girls? "Why wouldn't I, is the better question," he said quietly. "Daisy, you're smart, passionate, sharp as a damned tack, and really, really gorgeous."

Daisy sniffled. "I can also be really mean when I'm angry. I'm probably going to get suspended, or possibly expelled, sometime in the next month. When I have bad dysphoria, I either sit in my room and cry all day or try to throw away every piece of clothing I don't think is 'girly' enough. My family and friends are all, like, the _definition_ of unstable." She covered her face with her hands, and her words came out muffled. "I have a dick." She dropped her hands and stared at him in a clear challenge. "I have a _dick,_ Robbie. And the _earliest_ I see surgery happening is the summer after I graduate." She snorted. " _If_ I graduate."

Robbie spread his hands. "None of that is news to me." He considered, dropping his hands into his lap. "Well, actually, I didn't realize how close you were to suspension. But none of the rest of that is news to me. And I'm not saying it doesn't matter, because I know how much it matters to you. But it's part of you, and it's been part of you the whole time I've known you. If you have surgery next summer, or the summer after you graduate, or _never_ , I'll still like you. If you throw out all your clothes on Saturday, I'll help you get them back from the free box on Sunday. If you get suspended, I'll come visit you at your parents' fancy-pants house in Arlington."

Robbie looked at Daisy carefully. She looked less like she was about to start crying, but he saw the brittleness of her smile, the worry in her eyes. The last thing she needed was him laying something else heavy at her feet. He grinned. "Daisy Johnson, you knocked me down with that Frisbee the day we met, and I haven't stopped falling since."

For a long, suspended beat, Daisy stared at him, mouth slightly open. Then she shrieked, " ** _NO!_** " and shoved him, hard, until he fell over onto the bed, laughing. She pounced and hovered over him, but sexy thoughts were the furthest things from Robbie's mind as he tried to dodge her jabbing fingers aimed unerringly at his ticklish spots. " _No,_ that's awful, take it back!"

"Never!"

"Roberto Reyes, that was _terrible_ , and I'm disowning you!"

Daisy ended up with a bruise on her chin from where Robbie accidentally caught her with his elbow. And Robbie's head ached for the next two days from where he'd conked it on the footboard trying to get away.

It was worth it. Every bruise, every ache, every minute was absolutely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I based Daisy's experiences and reactions as much as I could on my own and my trans friends' and community members', especially the teenagers. That said, our life experiences are verrrry different from Daisy's. If you're a trans woman reading this and thinking something feels off, please do let me know!
> 
> And feel free to drop by [my cave in the post-apocalyptic tumblr wasteland](http://hugealienpie.tumblr.com/).


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